


Museum of Broken Relationships

by PorcupineGirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Endgame Castiel/Dean Winchester, F/M, Flashbacks, M/M, Misunderstandings, Museums, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4605636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcupineGirl/pseuds/PorcupineGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's probably a bad idea to take your girlfriend to something called "The Museum of Broken Relationships," but Lisa insisted. Dean <i>knows</i> it was a bad idea when he sees a certain t-shirt, and reads a letter pulled straight from his past. </p><p>But maybe... Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Labor Day 2015

**Author's Note:**

> The [Museum of Broken Relationships](http://brokenships.com) is a real thing. I learned about it from [this tumblr post](http://porcupine-girl.tumblr.com/post/119829916044/comtessedebussy-sixpenceee-the-museum-of) (which was months ago, and I only just now started writing it, you'll notice).
> 
> This fic is just a little thing for me to play with in between working on other stuff, so I have no idea how often it will update. I do have a full story plotted out, though. It'll wander there eventually.
> 
> I'm not sure if the rating will eventually change or not.
> 
> Addendum, 9/16/16: Since I keep getting questions, yes, this fic is still alive. It's just on hold until I finish The Breath Before the Phrase. Once that's done, I'm going to focus on getting this one finished fairly quickly. The entire thing is outlined in detail, and most of the chapters will continue being fairly short, so it shouldn't take too long once I get back to it. Thanks for your patience! :D

**Labor Day 2015**

Dean is pretty sure this was not a good date idea.

But Lisa had been so fascinated when she stumbled across the traveling exhibit on a local "Things To Do This Weekend" calendar. And given that he'd just turned down _another_ invitation to move in with her, he'd been feeling pretty damn lucky she hadn't dumped his ass and was ready to do just about whatever she wanted that weekend.

But the _Museum of Broken Relationships_ just doesn't really scream "a great place to take your girl when you're already on thin ice."

"It sounds romantic," Lisa had said, "in that sad, wistful way. Like _Titanic_."

Why does she love that movie so freaking much?

"Except these aren't people whose boyfriends and girlfriends died, Lise," he'd pointed out. "These are people who got _dumped_. Rose knew Jack loved her. These people did not get loved back. That's not romantic. That's, like, the _opposite_ of romantic."

The look she'd leveled at him made it clear that he would _never_ understand and was simply _hopeless_.

But anyhow, here they are. In a display full of the broken husks of other people's failed relationships.

It's a bunch of… things. Mementos? People donated objects that, like, represented their relationship or were things they got from their ex or whatever, sometimes with a letter explaining. And at the end there's a place where you can bring new stuff, so Dean guesses it must get bigger with each new city it goes to. Pretty nice scam, having your own customers bring you new material for free.

So, here he is. Wandering around, feeling a whole lot of secondhand shame and embarrassment, along with some genuine sadness at some of the stories. Not feelin' too romantic, that's for sure. Lisa sure seems to be, though. She keeps making these little faces, heartbroken but with a sad little smile. And hey, if she's enjoying herself, that's what matters here. Keeping his girlfriend happy so she doesn't kick his ass to the curb over his commitment issues.

Then Dean thinks he sees something out of the corner of his eye. Way over on the other side of the room.

He glances over. It… no.

He turns back to the broken CD he and Lisa had been looking at, with an angry poem attached about some asshole who broke a woman's heart.

So romantic.

That thing over on the other side of the room keeps nagging at the back of his head.

But hey, they'll get there eventually. No rush.

Then it hits him. _Oh, shit._ They're gonna make it over there eventually. And what if… if it is… 

He lets Lisa get a little ahead of him. Then he kinda wanders towards some shit out in the middle of the room. She glances around once, but once she sees him she goes back to what she was looking at.

He finally makes his way over to the object that caught his eye.

It's a light blue t-shirt with a teddy bear on it that says "I Wuv Hugs." He'd had one just like it when he was a kid. And years later… years later someone who had seen photos of him in that shirt had happened across an adult-sized version and bought it for him. When Dean refused to wear it in public, that person had proudly worn it instead. And taken it with him when he'd left.

But if it had been on sale online, hundreds of people must own the same shirt. Thousands, maybe. Just because Dean's never seen another adult wearing it doesn't mean that there's only one in existence. So this one… it's not like it's the same shirt.

But then he reads the note attached to it. It's long, two pages, written in small, neat handwriting that Dean tries to pretend isn't familiar. He gets maybe two lines in before he looks around for Lisa, panicked. She's still over on the other side of the room, looking at a display of various toys people had donated to the museum. His near-hyperventilation calms enough for him to turn back around and finish reading the note.

_I met him during our junior year of college._

_He was everything I wasn't—an engineering major; handsome in that conventional, all-American way; athletic; outgoing and friendly. Everyone adored him. Everyone believed that the smile he always plastered on his face was the end of the story, as deep as it went. I couldn't understand how someone could bury so much pain behind so much kindness and laughter, but most of all I couldn't understand why I seemed to be the only one who saw it._

_I was surprised and flattered that he let me in. He let me see the things he hid from everyone else we knew. I fell in love with him so quickly, but I was scared. At first I was scared because I didn't know if he was interested in men. Then I was scared because I thought he couldn't possibly be interested in_ me _, and more than anything I didn't want to lose his friendship. And I was scared that maybe he would think that I'd had ulterior motives for becoming friends with him, that I'd only spent so many late nights talking with the hopes of getting him into bed. Nothing could be further from the truth._

_Now I regret wasting all that time. By the time we finally admitted our mutual feelings, we had only months left together, not that we knew it at the time. We thought we had the rest of our lives. We should have. It's entirely my fault that we didn't._

_My family needed my help. He begged me not to go, couldn't understand why I would go back to them when they were nothing but toxic to me. We might have still salvaged our relationship, managed something long distance until my obligations to my family were complete. Maybe I should have asked him to come with me, but I knew he was right about their toxicity and couldn't force him into the middle of that. Whatever might have been, we blew up at each other. Ended things in the worst possible way, yelling things we didn't mean… at least, I didn't mean them. I don't know about him. He changed his phone number as soon as I left._

_As it turned out, he was right about my family. It took longer than it should have, but I eventually realized how bad things were and cut all ties. I can't regret going to them, as I helped a lot of people; just not the people I thought I would be helping when I went._

_But leaving him, not asking him to come with me, not making a real effort to salvage what we had—that I will regret for the rest of my life. By the time things fell apart with my family, I knew it was too late. I couldn't possibly ask forgiveness, couldn't possibly hope that he could learn to love me again. I made one attempt. I found his brother's contact information online a couple of years ago, and called. He told me that his brother was in a relationship with a woman, was happy, was headed for marriage, and warned me away in no uncertain terms._

_He_ ~~was~~ _is the love of my life. I will never stop loving him, I will never go a day without wishing he were with me. I can love others, but it is and always will be a pale shadow of what we shared._

_I hope the same isn't true for him. I hope he's happily married. I hope he has someone with whom he can share both the light and the dark. I hope he looks back on our time together with fondness, rather than focusing on the ending, but I hope to God he's not in the kind of pain I am in. And more than all of that, I hope he never sees this. Because I know him, and I know that he would take on a burden of guilt that is not his. He would try to find me, try to mend fences, but I don't want that. Talking to him would only be a reminder of what I can't have with him._

_It's all or nothing for me, it has to be. I can't not be in love with him. And that would only make him feel worse, that he has moved on and I haven't. If he were to come to me, to try to be "friends," it would only be a spiral of pain and guilt for both of us._

_I bought him this shirt once. He wouldn't wear it, so I did. I'm leaving it here as a symbol of his life—something that isn't mine to share._

_-C_

Dean has absolutely no idea what to do. He quickly wipes the tears from his face before Lisa can see those. He looks around, and sees that she's now just a few exhibits away from this one. Okay. It's cool. There's nothing on here that identifies him… is there? He scans the note again. Nope. He's never told Lisa (or anyone else he's dated) about Cas. Well, he's mentioned Cas as a friend from college. That's kind of unavoidable, he's in so many of Dean's photos from that era. And given that he's now sort of a… not a celebrity, but a… public figure? after what went down with his family, it would have been hard to pretend he _didn't_ know the guy who was splashed all over the news. But he's never told anyone who wasn't around at the time about their relationship, or how and why it ended.

If you don't already know the story, there's nothing here to connect it to Dean. Okay. He takes a deep breath, hating the way it shudders on the way out. Gotta calm down a little.

He pulls his phone out and surreptitiously takes a photo of the note. Then takes separate photos of each page, to make sure he can read them.

He wanders over to Lisa and resumes idly checking out the exhibits from over her shoulder. They make it back to his… _that_ exhibit, and his heart rate kicks up, but he keeps his breathing smooth.

"I saw you looking at this one for a while. What'd you think of it?"

Dean has his lie all ready. And like all of the best lies, it's mostly the truth.

"Oh, uh, I had a shirt like that when I was a kid, so it caught my eye. I was just wondering who on earth would buy an adult version of it, let alone leave it in a place like this." He huffed a laugh. "But, uh, man, the story kinda got me, y'know? So many of these are from people who are glad it's over, but this guy's still kinda hung up, sounds like. Sad."

Lisa nods as she reads the note. When she's done, she shakes her head and he can see tears in her eyes.

"Poor guy. I can't imagine, knowing you screwed up like that and knowing you can never get it back. And that he had to choose between his boyfriend and his family! He's probably better off without the guy, if he couldn't understand the importance of being there for your family."

Dean can't help but feel a little defensive.

"Yeah, but then he says the dude was totally right about his family being toxic, and he wound up cutting all ties with them anyhow. Sounds to me like he shoulda listened to his boyfriend in the first place."

Lisa sighs, getting that sad smile.

"Hindsight is 20/20, right? I'm sure he couldn't have known at the time. Abusive relationships can be like that, it can be so hard to see them for what they are when you're in them. Even if someone outside points it out, it often only makes the abused person turn on the person who's trying to help them. I've seen it so many times, Dean. I'm glad this poor guy did get out eventually, though."

"Me too," Dean murmurs. He stops himself before he can say anything else.

They move on to the next exhibit.

This was a really bad place to go for a date.

As they leave and get into the Impala, Dean looks across at Lisa and realizes that it was a far worse choice for her than for him.

 


	2. September 2015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, things that I can tell you about this fic now that I've written more of it:
> 
>   * Chapter length is going to vary WILDLY. 
>   * I'm not 100% sure about chapter order at the moment. There is a small but very real chance that I will go back and reorder some of them after the fact? 
>   * Because this is PG's Big Adventure in Non-Linear Storytelling. Exciting! *jazz hands* I don't know what I'm doing! 
>   * Speaking of making after-the-fact changes, if you see the date on this chapter and are like, wait, I have no idea when the first chapter happened - that's because it didn't say. Now it says Labor Day 2015 (there, I saved you a click to go back and check). 
> 


**September 2015**

"Hey Dean, what's up?"

Dean sits on his couch, feet up on the coffee table, fidgeting with a button on his shirt.

"Hey, uh, maybe a weird question, but uh… Did Cas call you at some point?"

"Cas? Cas as in, Castiel Milton?"

"No, Sammy, the other Cas. The one you've got hiding in that big mop you call hair." If Sam were in the same state, Dean would throw his empty Coke can at him.

"Yeah, it was a while ago. He called me at work, asked for your number. I told him to fuck off."

Shit. Dean had really been hoping that that part had been bullshit. Not that there was any reason for Cas to lie in that letter, but you never know.

"What the fuck, Sammy?"

"Dude, the guy broke your fucking heart. You _changed your phone number to avoid him_ , Dean. What was I supposed to say? I sure as hell wasn't going to give him your new number. You know, the one you only had because you didn't want him to have it?"

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose.

"That was a million years ago, Sam—"

"It was like five years ago, and when he called me, it had only been like three. You were finally getting past that whole mess. You were happy with Lisa—"

"Oh yeah, that. Did you tell him Lisa and I were getting _married_?"

"I didn't lie. I didn't actually say you were engaged or anything. But Dean, you guys _had_ been together for over a year, and you were really happy together, and everybody _assumed_ you'd be popping the question any minute. Which, by the way, here we are two years later and I'm honestly not sure why you haven't yet."

Dean barely suppresses a groan. "Can we not go there right now, Sam?"

"Fine, let's go back to Castiel. I take it you're talking to him again, if he told you all that?"

"No, no, I haven't talked to him," Dean mumbles. He really should have seen that question coming. Of course Sam's gonna want to know how Dean knows all this shit. "I, uh. I kinda stumbled across something he wrote. That was, like, posted publicly. It didn't name names, but it talked about what went down between us, and it mentioned that he called you a couple years ago."

"Well, yeah. He did. And again, what was I supposed to do, Dean?"

"I don't know, get his number and ask if I wanted it? At least fuckin' _tell_ me it happened?" Dean absolutely has the right to be pissed about this, he reminds himself. Sam had no right to keep this from him.

"What, so you could spiral back into depression? It was hard enough on you when he started popping up on the news all the time. You didn't need to hear his name _yet again_. And you sure as hell didn't need to start talking to him again, not when things with Lisa were so good."

"Again, not your call to make, Sammy. Maybe I just wanted to get in a good old-fashioned 'I told you so' about his dickbag family."

Dean has never, not for one single moment, wanted to say I told you so.

"Okay, fine, look, he ever contacts me again, I'll get his number for you, okay? In the meantime, if you really want to rub it in his face, I'm sure you can go to the Milton Foundation website and find some way to contact him through there. That's how he found me, the website for the practice I was interning at. But, Dean—I really, really think you should just drop it. Don't contact him, even out of spite. You don't need that in your life, man."

"I'm not gonna stalk him just to prove some petty point, Sam." 

The suggestion to look at the Foundation's website is a good one, though. If Dean decides he might want to stalk Cas for non-spiteful reasons, which he has not said anything about.

"Good. And dude, would you just marry Lisa already?"

"Shut up, Sammy."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"I gotta get back to work. Talk to you later, Dean."

"Yeah, see ya."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And before anyone yells at me, I am 6K into the next chapter of Breath and basically trying to decide where to put the Ch 6/7 cut. Trying to decide how to maximize the level of end-of-chapter angst. THEN you can yell at me.


	3. August 2012

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured it was pretty mean to just give you a single 700-word chapter.

**August 2012**

"Oh, have you been following that whole thing?"

Dean looks up from his menu. His… girlfriend? They've been dating for a couple of months now. She probably thinks it qualifies. At any rate, _Lisa_ is pointing at one of the flat screen TVs mounted on the wall of the restaurant.

He follows her gaze and tries to pretend the wind isn't knocked out of him. Just like it is every god damned time he's assaulted with Cas's image when he's not expecting it. Which happens way too often these days.

"Uh, yeah." He drops his gaze back down to his menu.

"Can you even imagine how hard it must have been for him? I mean, being a whistleblower for some faceless corporation is hard enough, but going up against your own _family_? Putting your own parents and siblings in jail?"

"Well, not like they didn't deserve it," Dean mutters.

Lisa hums in agreement, going back to her menu.

"That's for sure. It's still gotta hurt, though. It says up there he's not accepting the position of president of the foundation, he's letting some cousin of his take over instead. I bet that has something to do with feeling guilty about why the position is empty in the first place, you think?"

Dean snorts. "Dear god, president? I think Cas would rather—" 

He catches himself too late, and Lisa is already looking at him strangely.

"Cas?"

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face.

"Castiel. Milton. I went to college with the guy. We hung out for a while, but I haven't talked to him in years. But, yeah, not exactly the leadership type."

Lisa's eyebrows climb toward her hairline. "How have you never mentioned this? He's been all over the news! Just now you looked right at him and didn't say a word!"

"We didn't… I think the polite phrase is, 'we had a falling out.' Let's just say we weren't friends anymore the last time I talked to him. I don't really like to think about the guy if I can help it."

"Oh." Lisa reaches out and takes his hand, her face all sad understanding. "I won't bring it up again, okay?"

"Thanks, Lise." Dean smiles, sincerely. Lisa is a pretty great gal. She'll make a great counselor when she finishes her night classes.

He focuses back on the menu, but he can't quite quell the little twinge of curiosity in the back of his head. He finally sighs through his nose.

"Did they say which cousin was taking over?"

"What?" Lisa looks up from her menu, confused.

"Sorry—I'm just curious. Did they say who's gonna be president of the Milton Foundation?"

"Oh, um…" Lisa glances at the television, but it's moved on to some other news story. "I think her name was Hannah? Hannah Johnson maybe?"

Dean nods, scratching the back of his neck. "I can believe that. She was gettin' her MBA when we were in undergrad. She fuckin' hated me." He grins.

Lisa grins back. "If you knew his cousins, you must have been close."

Dean's grin dies. He can tell where she's going. He shrugs. 

"We shared an apartment for a while after we graduated," he says with a sigh. "But look, seriously, Cas and me… That friendship went real bad, real fast. I've been half paying attention to this whole thing because yeah, it's kinda cool what he's done. Good for him. But, y'know. Not gonna make me extend an olive branch or anything. That bridge is good and burned, trust me."

The waiter shows up just then, as though he knew that Dean needs a change of topic.

 "Great, awesome, what kind of burger should I get?"


	4. October 2008

**October 2008**

"Suck it, Winchester!"

Charlie throws down her Playstation controller and does an obnoxious victory dance. Dean groans and pretends he can't hear Castiel's quiet not-quite-laughter in the corner.

"Three outta five," he says, knowing he sounds pathetic. He mostly wants an excuse to keep playing SoulCalibur instead of doing the homework waiting for him in his room. It's not due until 9am tomorrow, after all.

"Please, unlike you losers, I have a date to get ready for. Have fun with your pset and your hand." She waves her hands vaguely at Cas. "Or your novel and your hand, whatever's applicable. Point being, I'ma go get laid and you two are stuck with masturbation."

She flashes them a vulcan salute as she dashes up the stairs.

"For a lesbian, she is rather preoccupied with our masturbatory practices," Cas murmurs, not looking up from the book he's reading for class. It's some Dickens thing, because he's taking some class on Victorian literature. He's lucky they even let him hang out at their engineering frat, to be honest. Stinking up the place with humanities.

Dean collapses back on the floor of the lounge, hands over his face. 

"Oh my god, if one more person says any form of the word _masturbate_ —"

"You'll what, blush even harder?" 

Dean doesn't even have to move his hands to see the arched eyebrow being directed at him. Yes, he will blush even harder, then melt into the floor and _die_ because jesus christ, this is not a topic he wants to discuss with the guy he—the guy—Cas.

"I sure as hell won't be seen with either of you in public, that's for damn sure," he finally manages.

Castiel hums, obviously cowed by the threat.

Dean lays there for another couple of minutes, then finally pulls himself up to sitting.

"C'mon, I do have a thermodynamics problem set I gotta finish. Retreat to my room?"

They head back to Dean's room. Technically, he has a roommate, but Benny basically lives with his girlfriend, Andrea. He just keeps this room because his parents would be pissed if he actually moved into her apartment. He keeps some of his clothes and shit here, comes by to do laundry or whatever. He didn't even blink when he came home a couple weeks ago and found his bed already occupied by a passed-out Cas.

They settle into their usual places: Dean at his desk, Cas curled up on Benny's bed with his book, Dean's computer playing classic rock quietly in the background.

Cas doesn't normally sleep here, not unless he's really drunk, but he spends most of his free time here these days. He almost never studies in his dorm anymore. This past spring, they hadn't even been friends for very long when one day he was complaining about how his roommate Balthazar was too social and noisy for him to get any work done, while the library was too sterile and quiet. It turns out that he and Dean both work best with some quiet music and another person working nearby to fall in and out of conversation with. He's worked in Dean's room almost exclusively ever since. There's even a pile of his books in the corner that have just kind of accumulated there since the start of the semester.

Of course, their entire friendship isn't studying in the same room. They have about the same level of tolerance for social activity; both introverts who enjoy a party now and then but would mostly rather hang out with a close friend or two. Dean puts on a good show of being outgoing, the kind of gregarious guy who loves team sports and being in a frat and generally surrounding himself with similarly social people. It took Castiel about two weeks to see through that; Charlie is pretty much the only other person he doesn't have fooled. Given that Charlie _is_ pretty extroverted and actually _does_ love being the center of attention, it's been kind of a relief to have someone he can chill with, whose definition of fun doesn't always involve dragging Dean somewhere loud.

Dean only gets about halfway through his first problem before he gives up. He can't concentrate. He hasn't been able to concentrate on much in a few days, the same topic always fighting for dominance in the back of his head.

He knows he should just get it over with, have this conversation. It should be easy. His two best friends are both queer, it's a freaking abundance of riches for someone trying to figure this shit out, he should take advantage of it.

It'd be a hell of a lot easier if… well. Maybe he should talk to Charlie about it first. But Cas is the one he _wants_ to talk to. Even though he also really doesn't. But Cas would have more… insight into Dean's situation than Charlie.

"Are you okay?"

He can feel Cas's blue gaze penetrating the back of his head.

"Uh, yeah, awesome. Why?"

"You're sighing and fidgeting, and you haven't picked up your pencil or actually looked at your paper in several minutes."

Dean groans and runs a hand through his hair. Next time, he's picking a less observant best friend.

"Yeah, yeah," he says, and pushes back from the desk. He looks at his hands for a minute, then goes and climbs onto his bed, sitting opposite of Cas on Benny's bed. Cas puts his book down, but is quiet. He's good at that. Stepping back and letting Dean get to whatever he wants to talk about on his own. If it were anyone else sitting and staring at him, Dean would feel pressure to get it over with, get the show on the road, spit it out, do _something_ before they get annoyed and lose interest. But while Cas may look like he's staring, at times like this he's just watching. He's watching Dean get his head together, and he can sit there and watch all day.

Dean toes his shoes off and draws his knees up, feet on the bed. He's maybe sort of using his knees as a shield, but he can see Cas over them so he figures it's not so bad.

"So… you like guys _and_ girls, right?"

Castiel looks confused. This apparently isn't what he was expecting. Dean doesn't blame him.

"Yes. You know I'm bisexual."

"Right. But, so… if you're gay, you don't really have a choice. It's either be gay and be out or never date or have sex or anything. At least, not with anyone you're actually attracted to, which would suck. But… since you like girls, wouldn't it just be easier for you to stick with that? Even if you don't date guys or sleep with guys, you'd still have plenty of women to choose from, so why go through all the shit you get whenever you're with a guy?" 

God, he hopes Cas can understand where he's coming from, can appreciate his honest curiosity and isn't mortally offended. 'Cause Dean knows this could be a really offensive question, right?

Cas looks at him for a minute, head tilted, considering. Dean returns the favor, lets him think it through, doesn't press. Soon enough, Cas answers, speaking slowly.

"In some ways, that would be easier, yes. I wouldn't have had to deal with my family's reactions to my coming out. I wouldn't get called names when I'm seen with a man. I wouldn't have to deal with people who suddenly want nothing to do with me when they find out I'm queer. But in other ways, important ways, it would be a lot harder. Pretending not to be attracted to half the people I'm attracted to. Resisting the temptation when there's a mutual attraction and no good reason for us not to act on it. Honestly, just lying about myself got to be… draining, after a while. And what if…" He looks down at his hands, picking at a fingernail. "What if I fall in love with a man? What if I want to spend my life with a man? Walking away from that just for the sake of staying in the closet would be much harder than anything I've dealt with in relation to being out."

Dean chews his lip, thinking hard. He's right, obviously. It's hard. It's hard not hitting on hot guys at parties or bars, it's hard pretending not to be interested when they hit on him. It's hard, always monitoring himself to make sure he's not staring too long or checking out the wrong person's ass in public. It's hard lying about who you are.

It's also hard having a crush on your best friend, but that's not specific to orientation.

"Yeah, I get it. That makes total sense," he finally says, voice a little raspy. He clears his throat.

The corner of Cas's mouth pulls up infinitesimally, into a smile most people wouldn't even recognize as one. But Dean sees the way it reaches his eyes more than his mouth.

"Why the sudden interest in my sexual identity struggles?"

Okay, here we go.

"Well, I just, uh. You know that Aaron guy? I kinda thought he was flirting with me yesterday."

Castiel rolls his eyes, laughing. "Aaron was _very definitely_ flirting with you, Dean."

Dean drops his head back against the wall, eyes rolling up toward the ceiling. "Okay, whatever, shut up. He was flirting with me. Point being… I didn't really mind."

"Dean." Dean looks at him, and his eyes are kind and gentle. "It's okay to not be freaked out that a guy was flirting with you. Just because you're not reflexively defensive of your heterosexuality doesn't mean you're bi, it just means you're not a homophobic asshole."

"That's not what I mean, Cas," he says firmly, holding his friend's gaze. He doesn't say anything else, has no clue what he's supposed to say next. Can't Cas just get it? Isn't it obvious what he's trying to say?

Finally, Cas gets up and moves to the end of Dean's bed, sitting cross-legged, facing Dean.

"Dean, if that's all you want to say to me, that's fine. But I'm not going to assume anything, and I'm not going to put words in your mouth. You're my best friend, and nothing you say is going to change that. If you want to know more about my experiences, just ask. If you need to talk some things through and figure out what exactly it is you _are_ trying to say, we can do that. Whatever you need, Dean. I'm right here." He leans to one side, so that his head is tipped against the wall, just a few feet from where Dean's head is still leaning back against it.

"I know, Cas," he says, smiling. "You're awesome." 

Awesome and ridiculously hot, but Dean really, _really_ needs to not focus on that right now. He needs to get thoroughly comfortable with the whole "being attracted to guys" thing, and the whole "people knowing he's attracted to guys" thing, hopefully even get some actual _experience_ with guys first, before he even touches the whole "wanting to fuck Cas" thing with a ten-foot pole.

He rubs his face with his hands, willing away _those_ thoughts and trying to focus on the task at hand. He sighs.

"I'm not confused," he finally says, keeping his eyes closed and his head tipped back. He's frustrated, and he just hopes he doesn't sound like he's angry at Cas or anything. "I'm not 'questioning' or whatever they call it, I'm not trying to figure myself out. I'm definitely attracted to guys and I just don't know how to fucking _say_ it."

There's a pause, then a shove on his shoulder catches him off guard, almost knocks him over even though it wasn't very hard. He looks over to see Cas grinning.

"You just said it."

Oh.

Fucking…

Dean lowers himself onto the pillow he was almost knocked onto, laughing. "Oh my god, I'm such a fucking dumbass."

"Let's say you were… preoccupied. Less dumb. Less ass."

He kicks at Cas, but it's less of a kick than a shove with his foot. Cas bats his foot away, giggling. 

"It'll get easier, you know," Cas says quietly, once they've stopped laughing. "It gets easier every time. And the first time a guy flirts with you and you don't have to resist the urge to flirt back, you'll be glad you did it."

"Think so?"

"Definitely. And trust me, the first time you get a blowjob from someone who has actually _had_ a blowjob before—"

"NO! NO! YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Dean pulls the pillow out from under his head and throws it at Cas. They generally do not share details of their sex lives, but holy shit Dean _really_ does not need to think about Cas and blowjobs at the same time right now.

Cas is snickering, clinging to Dean's pillow. Dean struggles upright, trying to glare but failing.

Cas's laughter dies out, but he's still grinning at Dean. Dean would say he's grinning affectionately, but there are too many connotations to that that Dean wishes were there but probably aren't. It's affectionate, just not the type of affection Dean wants.

"But seriously, Dean. It means a lot to me that you trust me enough to talk to me about this. Have you talked to Charlie yet?"

"Not yet. She's probably just gonna say 'duh!' and then list every guy whose ass I've ever stared at."

Cas snorts as he gets up from the bed, stretching. "I think she might be capable of slightly more tact and sensitivity than that. Though only slightly."

As Cas picks his book up again and gets settled back on Benny's bed, Dean makes his way back over to his desk.

"Okay, well, personal revelation time is over. Fucking thermodynamics. When I finish his problem, we should order a pizza."

"As you wish," Cas mumbles from behind his book. 

Dean blushes at his calculations and is secretly glad that he has no idea whether Cas has ever seen The Princess Bride, because he says that sometimes and Dean just doesn't want to know whether it means anything or not. Maybe someday he'll be brave enough to find out. Maybe someday he'll actually make Cas watch it and see if he keeps saying it. Maybe someday a lot of things will happen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I hope I'm keeping track of the dates on this stuff right.
> 
> Yes, Dean and Charlie live in a co-ed engineering frat. Which KU appears to have.


	5. September 2015

**September 2015**

Over and over again, Dean's mind wanders. It always wanders back to Cas. Now he knows for sure—Cas tried to contact him. Tried to apologize. Maybe he was even trying to… Dean's not sure if he wants to finish that sentence or not.

He makes it four days before he finally pulls up the Milton Foundation website.

For another two days, he keeps going back, reading press releases, things he already knows because they were already in the news, mostly. Reading about their current projects or initiatives or whatever.

Then one day he gets home from work, sits down at his computer, and searches the site for "Castiel." Of course, a lot of press releases pop up. Finally he sees the directory hit and clicks on it.

Castiel Milton, Director of Grants and Initiatives. Whatever that means.

It appears to mean that Cas is in charge of deciding what kind of causes they're going to give their money to. Which sounds like a decent enough fit for him, if he has to be in any sort of Director-y leader-y type job.

But god, he must hate it. He can't possibly still be there out of anything other than a sense of obligation.

There's no contact information on the page. No phone number, no email address, no office location.

He tells himself that it's a sign to drop it.

 


	6. March 2012

**March 2012**

Dean isn't really watching the TV. He's flipping through a car magazine he happened to pick up at a gas station today. Not the kind of thing he buys a lot of, but this issue has a spread about 1960s Chevrolets, so clearly he owes it to Baby to check out her sisters and cousins. The TV is just on for background noise.

Or, rather, it was.

"In today's top story, shocking allegations about one of the country's most trusted charities, the Milton Foundation."

Dean's head snaps up.

As the anchor keeps talking, they show footage of a press conference. He doesn't recognize the woman speaking, probably some PR person or lawyer, but he definitely recognizes one of the faces standing behind her. And next to him… Dean wracks his brain, sure that the face looks familiar. One of Cas's brothers? Gabriel, the one that disappeared off the face of the earth?

"Castiel Milton, one of the heirs to the Milton fortune and employee of the Foundation, has come forward to blow the whistle on his own family's alleged misuses of the Foundation's funds."

Dean turns up the volume, magazine forgotten on the coffee table.

The anchor has been joined by some kind of legal analyst or something.

"If these allegations prove true, what will it mean for the Miltons and for their foundation?"

The legal guy shakes his head.

"Nothing good, Jill; these are some very serious allegations and they involve the top levels of leadership at the Milton Foundation. If what these two brothers are saying is true, their mother and father, who are president and executive director of the Foundation, along with their other three siblings, one uncle, and one aunt, all vice presidents or directors, could all wind up in prison. At the very least, that would leave the Milton Foundation in quite a bind, having lost almost all of its leadership, but the biggest loss might be in terms of public trust. People may not want to support an organization that's been through this kind of scandal, even after those responsible have been ousted."

Dean grabs his iPad and opens up a news app, immediately greeted with the story as the top headline.

He devours the articles he can find, then digs around and finds the footage of the press conference, along with every piece of public paperwork available.

Two hours later, he's still reeling. It's been barely a year and a half since Cas left. Cas has spent at least the past year of that meticulously documenting all sorts of wrongdoing within his family's foundation, right under their noses. He also tracked down Gabriel, whom Castiel hadn't seen since before Dean met him. Cas figured out that the reason Gabriel left so suddenly and disappeared so thoroughly was because he didn't want to participate in some of the things going on, but had been too skittish to actually out any of it on his own. Gabriel had agreed to add what evidence he had to Cas's and come forward together.

It's… actually pretty fucking amazing.

Dean's first thought, once he realizes how long Cas has been working on this, is _you dumbass, why didn't you tell me this was why you wanted to leave_? But then he reads some documents that make it obvious that Cas had no idea that any of this was happening until he'd started working there himself. Then Dean gets kind of pissed all over again at Cas for leaving him—for leaving him for _these_ fucking people. Family or not, they're clearly horrible people, not just to Castiel but to the fucking _world_. Family may not end in blood, but it don't start there either, and Dean is furious anew that Cas had ever had such loyalty to these… these fucking _cartoon Bond villains_ ; who even _does_ this kind of shit?

When he's pretty sure he's exhausted all the public documentation of the case (there's plenty more to come, looks like, but most of Cas's actual evidence hasn't been released by the various law enforcement agencies involved), he has to get up and grab a beer, because holy shit does he need to clear his head. After he wanders around his apartment aimlessly for a few minutes, he pulls out his phone.

Charlie answers on the first ring.

"Dean! Dude! Have you been watching the news?"

"Why do you think I'm calling? Holy fucking shit, Charlie. I just spent all afternoon reading about this shit."

"Look, you know I totally am on your side on the whole breakup thing, but I gotta admit, this is pretty badass."

"Hey, no arguments there. Dude did me wrong, but I'm kinda proud of him, y'know? Couldn't stand up to his family for my sake, but at least when international arms dealers are involved he can find his damn balls."

Charlie makes a strangled noise.

Dean snorts. "Good job holding yourself back from the obvious joke about me finding his balls, I'm proud of you."

"As well you should be."

Dean rolls his eyes. There's a slight pause, and he debates whether he should even ask… Eh, why the fuck not, they're already talking about the guy.

"So… have you, like, heard from him at all? Since he left?"

"Not for a long time. Right after the whole thing went down, he called me a couple times, but I made it clear that you'd gotten custody of me in the divorce and he stopped."

Dean shifts uncomfortably on the couch.

"I mean, you didn't have to stop being friends with him just because of me. As long as you didn't talk to me about him, or tell him anything about me, it's not like I'd know the difference."

"Dean, Dean, Dean. That is not how these things work. That is not how these things _ever_ work. How many people on the planet do you think are still friends with both Jobs _and_ Wozniak? You try to stay friends with both parties in a nasty breakup, eventually something's gonna give. Either one person will start pumping you for information, or one of them will get pissed you're talking to the other, or you'll have a party and have to decide which one to invite—there are a million ways this can go wrong. I'm no fool, Winchester."

"Well, thanks for choosing me, then," Dean says sincerely.

"Not that it was a decision based entirely on logic and reason, but come on. a) I've known you longer, b) he was clearly the party most in the wrong in the breakup, and c) he moved halfway across the country while you're still here for me to hang out with. Even if I weren't just plain closer to you, it only made sense."

"This is getting dangerously chick-flicky, Red," Dean warns, but he's smiling.

"Fine, fine. I'm thinking about doing some possibly-not-entirely-aboveboard poking around to see if I can get a sneak peek at the evidence for the case. You want me to keep you updated if I find anything?"

"Yeah, definitely. Lemme know what you turn up."

"Will do!"

They say their goodbyes and hang up. Dean turns off the TV and folds his iPad back into its case, then turns to lie on the couch, his feet up on the arm.

"Hope you're fuckin' happy, man," he murmurs, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "At least now you know what kind of assholes you left me for."

He grits his teeth together, trying to dredge up the rage he felt in the first couple of months after Cas left.

Whatever remnants he might have had he's already used today, though. He ran through his rage pretty quickly when Cas first left, and now that he knows that Cas put himself at risk like this to stop his family he just can't summon any more.

Unfortunately, he's still got plenty of what replaced the rage. It's been hanging around in the back of his head, getting weaker and weaker as time passes but never quite going away completely.

 _You weren't enough for him, weren't **good enough** for him then, and you're sure as hell not good enough for him now_ , that voice hiding back there tells him. _You're wasting your fucking degree because you couldn't say no to your dad any more than he could, but now he's bringing down one of the most powerful cabals in the country and you're still a fucking mechanic with an engineering degree. He'd be disappointed—no, he'd be **disgusted** if he saw you now._

The rational part of his mind broke through long enough to remind Dean that the breakup was Castiel's fault, that _he_ was in the wrong, not Dean. The asshole moved to New York and _refused_ to let Dean go with him, he chose his family over the guy he said he loved, the guy he called his best friend, the guy he claimed to want to spend his life with. He probably barely even remembers Dean now. He's clearly been busy with _way_ more important shit, he probably hasn't spared a single thought for Dean in months. If Dean tried to contact him now, he'd probably have to go through a lawyer or publicist or some shit, and Cas would probably think Dean was only doing it to ride his coattails now that he's famous. Even if he didn't think that, he's probably long since realized that getting Dean out of his life was one of the best choices he's ever made.

Dean only lets his thoughts spend a few more minutes driving down that road, though, before he pushes himself up off the couch.

"Guess what?" He mutters to himself. "Wallowing in self-pity doesn't get you laid. Going to a bar? Now, that'll get you drunk enough to forget bad shit, _and_ laid." 

He pulls on his jacket. It's barely seven, but he can grab something to eat before the drinking and flirting starts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, we've got a tentative chapter count! I have never, ever planned something so thoroughly that I could give a chapter count in advance before. There's a chance another chapter will be added in there somewhere, but I'm pretty sure it'll be 19.


	7. February 2008

**February 2008**

"Jessica Alba."

Dean looks up from his spot on the floor as his door swings open and Charlie and Castiel walk through.

"Meh."

"Charlie, it is objectively impossible to be 'meh' about Jessica Alba."

Castiel bends down and steals a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Dean's lap before settling cross-legged on Benny's bed.

"He's right, Red. But why the fuck are we talking about Jessica Alba?"

"Just comparing which celebrities we plan to put on our lists if we ever get married. I mean, not to each other, obviously, ew." Charlie wrinkles her nose, apparently in disgust at the thought of marrying someone who dares to be as male as Castiel. "Just in general."

"Your lists if you get married?" Dean asks, brows knit as he cranes his neck to look up at her from his spot on the floor in front of his bed. "Did I miss something?"

"The list of people you are allowed to sleep with if you are ever given the chance, excused by your spouse, no questions asked," Castiel explains.

"Ohhhhh," Dean says, nodding. But then he looks up at Cas, even more confused. "Wait, so Jessica Alba's on your list?"

"But apparently not Charlie's, which is baffling. I thought she had better taste." Cas looks at Charlie as though she has personally wronged him, then turns back to Dean. "Don't tell me she wouldn't be on yours, Dean."

"Well, duh," Dean says, "but, uh… I like girls." He is careful not to say he only likes girls, or that he doesn't like guys. He's only just started being honest with himself about what he does and doesn't like, but not quite honest enough to tell anyone else yet. "And I thought you… didn't?"

Oh god, he is going to be embarrassed if the first guy he's really let himself fantasize about is actually straight—even if said guy doesn't _know_ Dean has been fantasizing about him.

Dean is startled when Charlie is the first to respond, with a loud scoff.

"In case you didn't notice, Dean, there are more letters in LGBTQ than L and G. This is exactly why I give you a dirty look when you call it Gay Club."

Dean's face reddens—that was a pretty dumb mistake, considering. He opens his mouth to apologize, but before he can, Cas laughs loudly.

"You call it Gay Club? So—so—" he has to get his giggling fit under control before he can continue. "So exactly how long was it before you stopped referring to me as 'that dude you brought home from Gay Club'? Five days? A week? If it took you longer than a week to remember my name I'm going to be offended, Dean."

"Oh come on, I called you that _once!_ " Dean glares at Charlie. "Did you tell him I called him that?"

"No, she did not, you are just very predictable," Cas says, laughing again. Dean throws a handful of popcorn at him. Seriously, dude's only known Dean a month, is Dean really _that_ predictable? Shit.

"Your own fault for calling it Gay Club," Charlie says, leaning a hip on his desk.

"Okay, okay, I get it, I get it!" Dean flops to one side, lying on the floor to look up at Cas. "I'm sorry for assuming you were only into guys."

"Hate to leave the party just when Winchester is apologizing for shit, because lord knows I could get in on some of _that_ action," Charlie says, "but I have one more class. I was just dropping this one off in here because the puppy dog eyes he gave me when he thought I was gonna leave him all alone were so damn pathetic."

Castiel throws some of the popcorn Dean threw at him at Charlie.

"What is this, the Winchester Home for Abandoned English Majors? You gonna start leaving me with all your strays, Charles?" 

Dean smiles up at Castiel from the floor, hoping Cas can see he's kidding. He knows the guy well enough to joke about not wanting him around when he really does ( _really_ does), but he doesn't quite know him well enough to be sure that _Cas_ knows that Dean wants him around despite the jokes.

A flash of doubt flits through Cas's eyes, but when he looks down at Dean, it fades quickly as he returns Dean's smile.

Charlie rolls here eyes and flashes them a Vulcan hand sign as she leaves, closing the door behind her.

"Actually," Dean says once she's gone, "I'm hungrier than this damn popcorn. You wanna go find some dinner?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Cas says. "I'm in the mood for a burger. Although, to be fair, I almost always am."

"I knew I liked you," Dean says, sitting up. "Wagon Wheel?"

"Sounds good," Cas says. "Mind if I leave my bag here?"

"Mi casa es su casa." Dean sweeps an arm out toward Benny's bed. "And mi roommate's bed es su… whatever. Pretty sure Benny's a figment of my imagination, feel free to commandeer his side of the room whenever you want."

He's proud of how casual he manages to sound, despite the thrill that runs through him at the knowledge that Cas now has to come back here after dinner.

"By the way," Castiel says as they exit the frat house, "don't feel bad about earlier. I actually did not even know that bisexuality existed until I got to college. I thought I was… I don't know, broken or something. I knew what homosexuality was, and that my parents thought it was a horrible sin. I knew that I didn't think it sounded like such a big deal. But I couldn't figure out if I was straight and having strange homosexual urges or gay but so brainwashed that my body _thought_ it was attracted to women."

"Damn," Dean says, shaking his head. "That's a mindfuck. So your family's, like, super-conservative? I'm guessing you're not out to them?"

Castiel's face darkens.

"Yes. They are far more socially conservative than they let the media see, especially my parents. They know that if liberals caught wind of their true beliefs, the foundation would suffer. It needs bipartisan support to sustain its current funding levels."

"The media?" Dean's brow is furrowed as he looks askance at his new friend. "What foundation?"

Castiel's wide blue eyes blink at him.

"Have you heard of the Milton Foundation?"

Dean stops in his tracks, feeling like his own eyeballs are going to fall right out of their sockets.

"You're one of _those_ Miltons? Like, the robber barons?"

Castiel laughs. "That would be my great-great-great-grandparents. I have yet to establish my own vertical monopoly, though I've been playing board games to practice."

"Sorry," Dean mumbles, starting forward again, "you probably get that a lot."

"The shocked look, yes. Specifically calling my family robber barons, not as much as you'd think. Most people stop with ' _those_ Miltons.""

Dean can feel his face reddening. He looks down at his shoes as they walk.

"Shit, sorry—"

"I didn't say it wasn't true," Cas stops him, "just that most people try to pretend it's not. My family may use its money for good now, but it was most definitely ill-gotten to begin with."

"Damn. So I'm betting you are _definitely_ not out, with a family like that."

Castiel is quiet for a minute.

"I got into Harvard, actually. And Yale, and Princeton. None of which is anything to brag about, because I'm legacy at the first two and could probably get into any of them just by pointing out which buildings bear my last name, so I'll never know if I could have done it on my own. I'm at KU because they offered me a full scholarship plus living expenses, which I'm fairly certain I _did_ earn on my own. I mean, that's not why I took them and came here, although I told my mother it was. But those other schools, if my parents cut me off, they'd never give me need-based aid and they don't offer academic scholarships. Here, I don't need their money. I wasn't necessarily planning on using that fact to come out to them when I made the decision, but it made the process a lot easier. I came out last Christmas because I was dating a man at the time, they threatened to cut me off, I said go right ahead."

"Holy shit." Dean turns to look at Cas full-on, seeing him in a bright new light. "You have got balls of steel, man."

Cas snorts, smiling. "Not really. It's a stifling existence. I was homeschooled, horribly sheltered. It's not worth any amount of money to keep living the life they want for me. Besides, after I spent a semester proving that I could, in fact, live off of the same stipend as the commoners, they relented and started calling again, sending me a little money here and there, things like that. I still haven't figured out if it's because they honestly care, or because it would look bad if the media found out they disowned their son for his sexuality. At any rate, my trust fund is irrevocable, so as soon as I graduate with a bachelor's degree it's mine whether they like it or not. I'll survive somehow, I'm sure."

"Shit, seriously? You're a for real trust fund baby?"

"For real."

"Well, if you're gonna be an English major, that's the way to do it, man." Dean bumps Cas's shoulder with his own as they walk, and is gratified when it makes Cas smile.

"I want to be a high school English teacher," Cas says, looking at Dean out of the corner of his eyes. "And yes, I realize that sounds strange for someone who was homeschooled."

"Not really," Dean shrugs, "I mean, so you've never actually been in a high school, so what? I've never been in an engineering firm, but that's where I wanna work. You can't exactly go teach homeschool English, right? You wanna teach, you wanna teach. And you do that in a school."

Cas's smile could melt the inch of snow they're walking through. And maybe Dean's heart, a little—wait, no. Okay, yeah, he's physically attracted to the guy, but… no, he is _totally not allowed_ to develop an actual crush. Nope.

"I think you might be the first person to see it that way, instead of teasing me for my choice. Thank you, Dean."

Dean really hopes he's not blushing too hard. They walk in silence for a moment, but luckily Cas breaks it before it gets to the point of awkwardness.

"So tell me about your family."

"Nothing as exciting as yours, that's for sure," Dean says with a shrug. "Grew up right here in Lawrence. Got a little brother, Sam, he's a junior in high school right now. Freakin' genius, no way is he gonna settle for KU. He wants to be either a lawyer or a physicist, and lemme tell you, he could do either one. Or both, I dunno. Our mom died when I was little, Sam was just a baby, he doesn't even remember her."

"I'm sorry," Cas says.

"It was a long time ago, y'know? My dad, he, uh… He never really got over it. Drank for a while, but his buddy Bobby knocked him upside the head and got him clean. We lived with Bobby for like a year while Dad got sober. Dad's a mechanic, he kinda became a workaholic after that, but that's a hell of a lot better than the alternative. I spent too much time taking care of Sammy to do, like, clubs and shit in high school, so no way was I getting in anywhere fancier than here."

"KU has a fine engineering school, I'm sure you're getting an excellent education here."

"Heh, yeah, I'm sure it'll do."

They're at the restaurant by now. Dean holds the door open for Cas and has an absurd moment of panic where he worries that Cas thinks Dean thinks this is a date. But Cas barely even seems to notice that Dean held the door for him beyond an automatically mumbled "thanks." Dean lets out a breath and they grab a table.

"So how'd you wind up even looking at Kansas, anyhow?" he asks once they're seated. "Wouldn't your family be in, like, New York or something? Running their foundation and shit?"

Cas smiles, shaking his head. "No, I grew up in Kansas City. Well, Johnson County. My parents didn't want us growing up somewhere as… _worldly_ as New York City. They've never told me why they chose Kansas City of all places—they picked a midwestern city out of a hat before they started having children, for all I know. They opened a branch office for the foundation there, which my mother worked from until I left home, while my father split his time between the two cities. I've never seen much of him. Now that I'm out of the house, they're back in New York full-time. My older siblings all live there now, too, working for the foundation." 

Cas pauses, his brow furrowed, and Dean can feel himself mirroring the expression as he wonders what's wrong.

"Well, most of them," Cas continues. "My brother Gabriel disappeared a year ago, nobody's heard from him since. He's always been an odd duck, so it's not shocking, but he's also the only sibling I actually get along with. He was the person I talked to first when I figured out that I'm bi. It's a bit depressing to know that, wherever he went and whatever drove him there, he didn't trust me enough to let me know."

"Wow." 

Dean isn't really sure what to say. 

"Shit," is all he can think to add.

This is clearly not a good topic of conversation. Castiel's eyes are now focused down on the table, and he looks for all the world like a lost little boy who doesn't understand why his big brother left him.

"Hey," Dean finally says, reaching out to put a hand on Cas's shoulder, "I'm sure he had his reasons, right? And he's a big brother, our job is to protect you young'uns. Maybe he hasn't told you because he's protecting you from something. Or he thinks he is."

Castiel shrugs the shoulder without a hand on it.

"Perhaps. I can't think what he could be protecting me from that involves leaving me with the rest of our family. They're the only ones I need protecting from." He shakes his head and picks up a menu. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get so maudlin. We should order, I really am very hungry."

Dean takes his hand back and gives Cas what he hopes is a supportive smile.

And absolutely doesn't wonder what Cas would have done if Dean had taken his hand instead of his shoulder.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am super behind on replying to comments, sorry. Every comment and kudos is cherished, though! I will catch up eventually...


	8. September 2015

**September 2015**

Dean does manage to drop it, for five whole days. He avoids the news just on the off chance that anything about the Milton Foundation will come up. He takes Lisa out to dinner a couple of times and even to a play she's been wanting to see.

She clearly thinks the play is an apology for not moving in with her. For Dean's ongoing inability to just say yes, I want to be with you for more than the next few months.

Well, it's partially that.

It would have been that.

But now it's, y'know. Also.

Also the fact that he can't get a pair of blue eyes and dark hair much shorter than hers that even manages to look disheveled in press conferences and a jawline accentuated by just the right amount of stubble out of his head.

Also the fact that he's questioning every decision he's made in the past five years, starting the day he went to the Verizon store and asked to change his phone number and going right up through taking Lisa to that damn museum.

Also the fact that he's seriously wondering what would have happened if Sam had given him Cas's phone number two years ago. Whether he and Lisa would still be together now.

None of which is at all fair to the beautiful, exuberant, loving woman who continues to put up with him. And sitting through _Inherit the Wind_ , no matter how boring, doesn't even come close to making up for any of it.

He's thinking about that when he pulls up the Milton Foundation's website again. He feels a guilty pang in his chest, like he's cheating on Lisa just by looking for information on Cas—but also another pang, like it's not fair to Cas if Dean doesn't at least make an effort to get in touch. Castiel reached out, even if Sam didn't let him reach all the way to Dean. Then he put his heart on the sleeve of that stupid teddy bear shirt and let it be displayed in public where anyone—even Dean—could see it. Dean can at least do this.

He takes a deep breath and dials the only phone number he's been able to find for the foundation.

An automated recording answers, unsurprisingly. None of the options it gives are for the… department of grants and initiatives, or whatever the hell it would be called. He pushes zero to listen to the options again. Then he pushes star for "other options."

This time, he's given the option to search by first or last name. Perfect.

He's about to spell out Milton on the keypad when he realizes that's pretty stupid. Instead, he spells out Castiel.

He's surprised when he reaches a recording that says "For all media inquiries, please call our public relations office at 888-239-6732. To reach Samandriel Milton, Assistant Director of Grants and Initiatives, please dial extension 8995."

And that's it. He's just booted back to the main menu. No option to leave a message. No actual way to contact Cas. Jesus, the media really must have done a number on him. Not that it would likely take much.

He tries the main menu one more time. This time, when he gets to the end of the second menu he hits the pound for "all other inquiries." Finally, a human picks up the phone.

"Milton Foundation, this is Rachel, how may I help you?"

"Hi, uh, can you put me through to Castiel Milton? Or tell me his extension or something?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Milton doesn't take unsolicited phone calls. You'll need to go through our public relations department—"

"No, I'm not—I'm not from the media, jeez." Dean rubs at his forehead. "I'm just… it's a personal call."

"Then you'll need to call him on his personal line."

"Can you give me that?"

"No, I'm sorry, sir."

"Look, I'm an old friend, and I'm trying to get back in touch with him. He was apparently looking for me a couple years ago but nobody told me. Doesn't he have a voice mail or something? Even an email address? _Please._ " He lets all his desperation seep into his voice.

"Again, Mr. Milton does not take unsolicited phone calls. Or emails."

"Can you take a message for me? Just tell him my name and number?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't even work in the same building as Mr. Milton," the lady on the other end of the line says, sounding somewhat sympathetic finally. "The best I can do is to put you through to the receptionist for Grants and Initiatives. Most likely she'll say the same thing I have, but she may be able to pass on a name and phone number. Don't expect anything, though." She lowers her voice, and Dean can practically see her looking around to make sure no one's listening. "And sir, if anyone asks, please say that you asked for the department by name rather than Mr. Milton."

"No problem, ma'am. You know, now that you mention it, I don't even remember the name of the guy I was gonna talk to. Could you just put me through to the Department of Grants and Initiatives, maybe they'll know who I need to talk to? For a, uh, grant?"

"Yes, sir, I'll put you right through."

"Thank you _so much_. If I'm ever in New York, I owe you."

He waits for a tense minute or two while he's transferred to the right department.

"Grants and Initiatives." The voice that answers sounds crisp, busy. Unlike the last lady, whose job was probably 90% or more answering the phone, this woman has a lot to do and being on the phone only gets in the way. She probably won't be as sympathetic.

"Hi, uh, can I speak to Castiel Milton?"

"I'm sorry, you'll have to call—"

"I know, PR, but I'm not from the media. I'm a friend. Can you just put me through to his voice mail?"

"Mr. Milton does not take unsolicited phone calls or messages of any kind."

And she hangs up. Just like that.

Dean glares at his phone.

"Well, what if I was some fancy-ass bigwig who wanted to give you lots of money, what then, lady?"

Cas probably already has every fancy-ass bigwig in the country on a rolodex, and they're all on the "solicited" list.

For a brief moment, he considers calling again and dialing Samandriel's extension (yet another cousin of Cas's, though not anyone Dean's met—seriously, only Cas's family is big enough to run this entire freaking foundation). But it's one thing to sweet talk the receptionist into helping him; trying to go through the guy who probably reports directly to Cas is just going to embarrass Cas at best and get him in serious trouble at worst.

Dean tosses the phone onto his coffee table.

This is _definitely_ a sign to drop it. He's pretty much out of options anyhow, right?

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](http://porcupine-girl.tumblr.com).


End file.
